A few weeks back when I asked for guest blogger submissions and I received a very special one from one of my favorite bloggers Marisa Bardach Ramel (check out her blog Sally's Circle ). In the past I've written about the idea of "Rainbow Babies" -- the children that are born following a miscarriage. Low and behold, Marisa is a real live Rainbow Person who was kind enough to share the unique perspective that it has given her. Since the experience of miscarrying, I've talked about how many people have stepped forward to say that they have also experienced it, but what I haven't mentioned as much is that an equal amount of people have shared that their parents experienced a miscarriage either before or after they were born. I've been fascinated to hear the impact that miscarriage has had on their lives and the dynamics within their families. Despite the fact that is not talked about very much, the phantom of miscarriage lingers on in big ways and small with every person it touches. The ramifications are not always negative. In Marisa's case it has left her with a rich understanding and well of hope for those who have been through this expeirence. However she can explain better than I can so without further ado... I'll pass the mic to Marisa....

Guest Blog: I am the baby that came after the miscarriage

I always knew there was another baby. A baby who came before me but didn't. A baby boy that Mom had already named Ryan Drew. From the time I was a young child, Mom told me about him. I could almost picture him. Curled up for eternity in the fetal position, a splash of light brown peach fuzz on his head and sleep-closed eyes. Always underwater. Always in the womb. Floating peacefully.

His story was a sad one, and I listened solemnly. As I grew older—9, 10, 11, 12—Mom spoke of the D&C, her depression, and the way no one talks about miscarriage. I pictured her crying over an empty crib that my older brother Jordan was too big to use. A crib just waiting for another baby. Mom's doctor told her that she'd be very fertile after the "miss," as she called it. Sure enough, just a few months later, she discovered she was pregnant with me.That was Mom's angle in telling me the story. "If we hadn’t lost him, we wouldn't have had you," she'd say with a loving smile. I grew up knowing I was her happy ending—and not just that, I was powerful enough to cure her sadness. It seemed only fitting that she would nickname me "Missy" or "Miss." I brought life back to that terrible word. In my twenties, a friend went through her own miscarriage. “Hang on,” I interrupted her, bursting to share my good news, which I was certain would be a revelation. "My mom had a miscarriage before me... and then she had me!" I was met with a terse nod and the briefest of smiles. She was still in the sadness, staring down at the empty crib. She hadn't yet graduated to the happy part where she meets her "me." (Though she did—a little boy with golden hair—a few years later.)So I guess I'm here to tell you it's okay if you can't see me yet. If you can't even allow yourself to fathom that I exist. I just want you to know I'm here, and that there is someone who will be your happy ending. It may be a baby that you conceive or have through IVF or adopt. Or your happy ending may be the unlimited love you find in your spouse, or the warmth you feel from your best friend or your mom. It might be a favorite niece or nephew, on whom you always go overboard on Christmas. Perhaps it’s a litter of huskies that you raise as your own, or an apartment filled with 32 plants that you water religiously. But I have no doubt it is there for you, just waiting to be discovered.

Be a part of The Ever Forward Movement!TheEverForward@gmail.com

I started this blog because after my miscarriage I wasn't finding what I personally needed on the Internet. I was craving access to the story of someone who could relate to what I was going through and who was approaching it with real-talk, self-reflection, and even a dark sense of humor every now and again. Okay, basically I just wanted to know I wasn't crazy (or at least that I was that I was in great company if I was). Since I began this blog I have been overwhelmed with the amount of women who have come forth to say they completely relate and who have relayed their own unique viewpoints. It has sparked a sense of community that has been extremely validating. For me, the very act of sharing my truth in this forum has been empowering and clarifying. Now I would like to offer that same opportunity to anyone out there who is interested. I want to share the sense of camaraderie and support that I have been so grateful to have found through this blog. SO..... I have decided to expand my Guest Blogger section to invite some of you to share publicly the powerful observations and reflections that I have been honored to have you share with me privately. I want to offer this site as a space where women can put their experiences out in the world boldly and in turn receive the kind of supportive feedback and understanding that we all crave.

I know how maddening it is to feel bogged down by the emotions that follow miscarriage/infertility. Chances are, a lot of women who read this blog know about those things too. All too well. The comforting things is : no matter what you are experiencing, chances are, someone else out there has been through it, can relate, and has maybe even figured out a way to cope with it that you haven't thought of yet. I think as a group we have the potential to support each other and move (ever)forward in a really profound way. As a drama therapist I especially believe in the benefit of collaboration and shared stories in the therapeutic process and I would love to bring that spirit onto the blog for the mutual benefit of all reading and sharing.

So here is your chance to share and play an active role in this little (but mighty) community we are building! Send your stories and thoughts to TheEverForward@gmail.com (keep them short-ish, maybe 500 words or less)! They can be absolutely anything that you want to get off your chest regarding the experience of miscarriage, infertility, etc. Also, if you have already sent me your story or thoughts in the past and want to give me permission to post them here drop me a line again and let me know. You can request to keep your story anonymous or not, just specify what you would prefer. Keep in mind!--you don't have to be someone who has personally experienced miscarriage or infertility to submit a story-- it would be equally appreciated and important and interesting to have the points of view of partners, best friends, siblings, parents, grandparents, aunts/uncles, dog walkers, physicians, reiki practitioners, shamans, spirit animals, and acquaintances.

Lets shake things up a little with some new energy, new voices, and new perspectives! I can't wait to hear from you!

I'm going to go out on a limb and say I think we can all agree there is no more universally appealing sight than a handsome guy carrying a baby in a baby sling or carrier. There is something about the total love, protection, and humbleness of that image, to me, sums up so very much of what is right with the world. Two days ago it was Father's Day and I will selfishly admit I did not give it as much thought as I gave Mother's Day, but that certainly did not mean it passed by unnoticed for us. I was oddly cranky for a good part of that day and it wasn't until my husband (Chris) and I acknowledged the bombardment of "First Fathers Day" posts on social media and the overall weird energy of the day that the fog lifted. Since then I've been thinking a lot about fathers.

A while back Chris, wrote a guest blogger post about miscarriage from the dad's perspective. After Fathers Day came and went, he, of his own free will (I swear!) suggested he write another little post to check in with the babyless papas out there and re-engage that side of the conversation. Where does the dad fall in this? The physical repercussions are shouldered by the female in this experience and so often it feels no other choice is left to the male (or non-pregnant partner) than to blaze forward while still being available to care for the emotional and physical needs of their partner. Just because Chris talks less about our miscarriage and doesn't have the physical reminder of doctors appointments or blood work, doesn't mean he fell in love with the idea of the baby and felt the subsequent loss any less deeply. This was very apparent as we lived through our First "You're Not A" Father's Day.

Here are his reflections :

Guest Blogger Post #2 : The Husbands Perspective (Pt 2)

Father's Day has alway coincided with my father's birthday. We always have a barbecue to celebrate the coinciding occasions and this year was no different. However, this year I noticed all that dad energy in a very different way.

I was caught off guard when a close friend of ours, Jeremy, text me :

"I can't wait for the day that you and I get to take our babies out for a Father's Day brunch.

Love you!"

The sweet sentiment and the hilarious emojis made me surprisingly emotional. Something about being recognized as an almost, but not quite father got to me.

I heard the echo of myself telling Becca: "It's ok, we are young and there is plenty of time, we will have kids when the time is right." I truly believe those words, but in that moment when I saw that text, the truth was that I was sad. It reminded me that our journey is not yet over and we have more hurdles to overcome.

It also got me thinking. How do we men who at one moment in time were ready to identify as fathers characterize ourselves now? I imagine us as a group of Peter Pans "Lost Boys" who, as the story goes, fell out of their prams when the nurses weren't looking and were sent off to Never Land. Perhaps that imagery is a bit too literal, but it was the idea that kept popping into my head. What happens when the life you thought was prescribed for you is taken away by a twist of fate?

The Lost Boys are trying desperately to hold on to memories that are fading whereas I for the most part have tried not to desperately clutch to what happened. Despite my efforts it still emerges for me when I least expect it. While I was musing on Peter Pan, I read a version in which at the end the Lost Boys are adopted into Wendy's family, but Peter Pan refuses. He is in Never Land forever. One thing that has become clear to me is that staying in this in-between emotional Never Land is not going to work for me. Perhaps Peter was too afraid to open up his feelings and ask for the support he needed and so perpetual limbo was his only choice. Living though my first not-Father's Day reminded me to keep that dialogue open with the men in my life that love and support me. It's not easy to do. Guys don't really sit around talking about babies or lack thereof, but if we don't share that part of ourselves in the context of this experience I fear we will be stuck in Never Land forever.

Sure, I could probably just keep barreling ahead never reflecting on these things, but I don't think that would do justice to the kind of man and father I strive to one day be. I wanted to write this today just to recognize for all the guys out there who have been in this situation, that it is hard. It is hard to not know what will happen next. It is hard to watch your partner suffer. It is hard to be somewhere in between husband and father. We may be the Lost Boys of the miscarriage story, but we are living through it and trying to figure it out just the same. I have found that speaking my side of the experience out loud and having it validated by Becca, family, and friends has helped me move forward a lot.

Hello all! Today I give the floor to my hubby, because if there is silence regarding miscarriage where the mother is concerned there is ever MORE when it comes to the would-be papa (or non-pregnant partner) and i’m sure many of you who are going through/went through this are/were at times dying to get a better sense of how this experience is for your partner…. take it away, Chris.... The husband perspective, huh? I hesitate to write this, because doing so opens the flood gates to many sad and difficult emotions--some of which maybe Becca will never fully understand and others that I personally thought (or wished) had begun to fade. Perhaps like many men I wish to suppress them. Let me start by saying I have not seen such bravery in anyone since Becca began this blog. It has allowed me to reprocess what has happened in a way I probably would not have otherwise.

Throughout this hurricane of events I found myself in a state of constant damage control--carefully positioned, available, and often constrained to viewing Becca’s pain through her eyes. I understand now that I will never fully comprehend her pain, nor physically feel what she went through. What I do accept as fact is that her pain--physical and emotional--is something that will always be a part of us. For me, I quickly began to let go of the lingering sadness for survival purposes. I had to let go of the fact that I was about to become a father. I had to let go of the promise I made that Becca could be a stay at home mom while we raise our children. I had to let go of something I allowed myself to see as absolute truth. The truth that we were pregnant. This is a truth that Becca has not, and maybe will never fully let go. And if I’m totally honest, maybe neither will I.

My perspective on all of this is based largely around responsibility. I feel a responsibility to be there for her. A duty to understand what she is going through. I feel charged by the powers that be to care for her. I am a man. This is what I am “supposed” to do. Love, Honor, and Cherish. I love Becca and I cherish her, but maybe most importantly, I honor her. When I think of the word honor, I immediately flash to the stories and times of King Arthur, castles, and ladies-in-waiting. My mind goes to a time when honor meant chivalry and fearlessness. So in this vein, I began to assess the damage. Calculate the risk. Devise precisely the right words in an attempt to make Becca feel better : "It will be ok.” "We will try again.” “I love you so much, this is not your fault.” These were words generated based on things I knew she was feeling. Words I knew to say because she told me that’s how she felt. So why didn’t these words help? I was being supportive. I was listening and definitely trying to understand. I found it impossible to be the antithesis to her grief. I'm trying to figure out how to grieve too.

I wanted her to understand me too, but often my worries seemed much more concrete than hers. Here is a direct list of my concerns that maybe other husbands would relate to : 1-When will Becca feel better? So, I googled. And was delivered an endless list of side effects and risks. Symptoms : Pain. Cramping. Bleeding. Scarring. So much concrete information. I was forced to recognize that learning about when these symptoms would resolve was not actually answering when my wife would feel better!! At this point I must throw in a very important NOTE to other partners in this position : do not read every topic/forum on the internet related to D&C together. You’ll find yourself in a endless cycle of what ifs and worry. Trust me, I know. Please reference the phrases such as : “It will be ok”, "Let’s wait to hear what the doctor says” and “Don’t worry, it’s only a 1 in 600 chance”.

2- How much is the deductible on my insurance? This applies to my American readers (high deductible insurance premiums, I know you hear me). My wife is in physical pain and we're both in emotional pain after a surgery that we obviously didn't want to have and I'm looking at $5,700-10,000 deductible on top of the crazy rates already paid into our health plan monthly. This is a tough one to swallow. Of course I don't want to be worrying about this stuff at a moment like this, but it’s what I do, and someone has to. It seems it would have never been a point of stress if the bills resulted in a beautiful baby.

3-Why is Becca Crying? I am just trying to discuss logical, factual things!!! Hormones. Right, I won’t forget. Sorry.4-How do I encourage Becca to move on? Should I suggest work as a distraction? Should I push her to find something to do? No. She knows what to do. She just wants you to love her. For an action-focused person this is sometimes hard to remember.

5-Where do we go from here???? Well, I’m not sure about this one, but I do thank our family and those that have given words of encouragement and support throughout this difficult time. It has helped a lot. If anything, this experience has given me a new understanding of the word HONOR. The picture of what honor and chivalry is has evolved in my mind. It is no longer about galloping up on a white horse and fixing everything with a few swipes of a broadsword. Honoring has come to mean a constant give and take, it means a balance, a partnership. It sometimes means putting a need to process and express above a need to fix. In other words, to honor means the willingness to compromise and even sacrifice. It means honoring the fact that we have different processes of coping, but we will respect that and support each other the best we can anyway. Honoring also means giving myself time to grieve and process and focus on my own needs for the overall health of our relationship. We both need time to figure out what our new normal will be, but I know we will get through this together. We have a love that will never be broken. (I am always and forever here for you, Becca).